Surviving The Storm
by Insert Clever Potter Name Here
Summary: Sequel to Raising the Rainbow- Now that the war is over, the survivors have to do just that. And with a few twists and surprises along the way, will they be able to? Rated M just in case. Post-DH, non-canon compliant
1. Chapter 1

_**So I want to explore the side of Arthur-death, Fred-injured, Kingsley-death and the aftermath. So, idk if this sequel will really move forward or continue after this chapter(who am I kidding, it will because of the cliff hanger I'll be dropping- it'd be mean if I dropped it and ditched)**_

* * *

Remus sighed, placing the plate back in the counter. "How is she?" Sirius asked, looking up from the paperwork he was doing.

"Cried most of the night, still won't eat." Remus responded. "How's the paperwork going?"

"Well, Percy claimed reopening this department would be simple. But this-" He held up a thick stack of parchment. "-is not simple."

"You're doing a good thing, Sirius."

"I know, I know." Sirius said, dismissively. "I figured nothing would annoy my Mother more than me using all of the Black family fortunes- including Bellatrix's- to reopen this department. I would love to see their reactions."

"That's the real silver lining right there." Remus commented.

Sirius leaned back, a slight smile on his face. "She'd call me everything she could think of." He said, with a smirk.

Since the war had ended, the wills of those who had died at the battle(including Death Eaters) had been going through Percy before being honored. When Percy got to the will of Bellatrix and her husband(who had made it clear their vault was to be passed on to _only_ a member of the Black family), Percy had decided that while they really meant Draco Malfoy(who had stated he would reject anything to do with the Death Eaters of his family when he began working at training to be an Auror), it might be better that it go to someone who actually bore the surname Black. And that was Sirius. Sirius was offended at first, but upon realising just how angry his family would be, decided to take it one step further. Because Sirius was no the rightful owner of everything in the Lestrange vault, the curses that had burned the trio and made the items multiply were easy for him to remove. And because he now had access to the large majority of the fortunes left behind by Black family members, he had decided he would rebel one last time- and reopen the Werewolf Support Services Department at the Ministry.

While the WSSD had failed before because werewolves were too afraid to admit themselves, Sirius had a confidence that it would work this time. Percy had abolished all anti-werewolf laws, even making it illegal to discriminate against a werewolf. Sirius had decided that instead of forcing a werewolf to share his or her name, they could receive anonymous help simply by sending an owl to him- but upon the announcement that the department would reopen and that registration could take place by owl if they chose, Sirius was receiving countless letters a day. Some from werewolves, asking to register for help, others from witches and wizards fully supporting the idea. There were a few from outspoken witches and wizards saying the werewolves didn't deserve help, but more often than not, these wound up in the fire before Sirius even read the entire thing.

Sirius sighed, putting his quill down. "Percy said there was no deadline to do this. Even if I get it finished today, the official opening of the department may not be for a few weeks left- and that'll be too close to full moon to do anything, anyway-"

Grimmauld Place's fireplace roared to life. Sirius and Remus looked over to see Harry stumble out and nearly fall.

"Not used to that yet?" Sirius asked as Harry righted himself and brushed soot from his clothes.

Harry shook his head, a grin on his face. "Where's Tonks?" He asked.

Remus gestured towards the ceiling. "Same place she's been since we got here.''

"Teddy?"

"Napping. Aren't you happy to see us, at least?" Sirius asked.

Harry sank into a chair at the table. "I have news, and I know you're going to be surprised..."

* * *

Harry stepped out of the room. He was feeling crowded, suffocated. Although it had been only a week, things didn't seem to be calming down at all. Arthur's funeral was two days after the battle, Kingsley's was two days away, and the Ministry was still trying to reform under the watchful of Minister Percy Weasley.

Harry loved the Weasleys, and he knew they loved him right back and didn't blame him for a thing. But now that Fred had regained consciousness, they had had to tell him the unfortunate fate of their father. And Fred had cried, in his mother's arms, he sobbed. And Harry, again, felt responsible for every death in the war.

He was wandering down the corridors, no real direction. He just had to keep moving. He found himself unfortunately close to the ward where Lockhart would be, so he made a quick detour down another corridor. If there was anything he didn't need, it was Lockhart.

"Potter? James Potter?" A voice said from behind him, full of confusion. Harry froze. He knew that voice. He knew that voice too well.

He turned slowly, ready to say he wasn't James(who would think such a thing, especially right now?), and felt like someone punched him in the gut. Standing there, leaning on a cane, was a very thin and very frail looking man. Even without his eye- a bandage was covering what would have been an empty socket- Harry would know this man anywhere.

"Moody?"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Oh boy, I hope you're as excited as I am about Mad-Eye's survival**_

 _ **because I'm psyched and ready with an explanation!**_

 _ **...**_

"I-I'm not James." Harry explained. Confusion crossed the ex-Auror's face, and then his expression softened.

"No, you wouldn't be, would you? He's been dead for nearly ten years."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, and then frowned. James Potter had been dead just over 16(nearly 17) years. "You are Alastor Moody?" Harry asked. "Ex-Auror-?"

"Ex-Auror? Nonsense, boy! I was at work this morning!" Moody said harshly.

"Alastor!" An overly cheerful voice said, and a young Healer appeared. "We've talked about this, you don't work at the Ministry anymore- Oh."

The Healer had just spotted Harry, and his mouth dropped open. "I see you've met a friend, Alastor." He said, gently. "Why don't you introduce us?"

"I don't know who he is." Moody said roughly.

"Sure you do." The Healer prompted. "Look at him, you know him, Alastor."

Harry felt extremely uncomfortable with Moody looking at him so intently, studying him. "He looks like James Potter- but that can't be right. James had dark eyes- this boy has-"

"Yes?" The Healer prompted. "What does he have?"

"He's too old to be him- to be Harry."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Too old to be Harry? What had happened to the once strong Auror?

"Alastor, remember, we've talked about this. It isn't 1988 anymore. It's 1998." The Healer said gently and then looked at Harry, who was standing completely still and completely confused.

"Mr Potter, why don't you come with us? Alastor should take his potion, maybe you two can talk." The Healer suggested.

"I- I really need to be somewhere, actually." Harry said apologetically. He reached into his robes and pulled out a loose piece of parchment and a Muggle pen. "Why don't you write down what ward he's in? I'll come back tomorrow."

The Healer grinned and nodded. He took the pen and the parchment. "You find pens easier, too?" He asked. Harry nodded. "They're definitely easier to carry around, I find." He added, jotting down some information. "My name's on there, too, I'm usually here during the day."

She handed it back to him and he glanced down. "Thank you- uh- Healer Jones."

"Please, call me Alec."

"Uh- yeah- okay. I'll be back tomorrow, Alec." Harry said, turning and rushing down the corridor. He reached the waiting area and headed straight for a fireplace. He really hated travelling by Floo, but he also wasn't _technically_ allowed to Apparate yet(it would still be another week before he was able to do a test to get his license).

He grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, throwing it down. "Grimmauld Place!"

* * *

"What do you mean, Alastor's alive?" Remus asked. "Bill saw him-"

"Bill never saw a body." Harry said. "It's him-"

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked.

Harry nodded. "Missing eye, missing leg- the scars- it's him."

"It could be a Death Eater-" Sirius began.

"No, that would also mean Alastor's alive. You can't use Polyjuice for someone who's been dead a year." Remus explained.

"He thought I was Dad." Harry said. "At first, anyway. Then he corrected himself and said my Dad had been dead ten years-''

Sirius frowned. "It's been a longer than ten years." He said quietly.

"Harry, you're sure? You're sure it's him? If we tell Dora and-" Remus began and then paused.

There was a rustling sound in the chimney. The three men stared towards the dark fireplace, waiting for the eruption of green flames. Instead, an owl swooped out of the fireplace, dropping a letter onto the table and disappearing up the chimney again. Sirius was the first to move, and ripped open the envelope that had his name hastily scrawled in smudged ink.

Sirius read, and frowned deeply. "Percy's giving us a warning." Sirius said quietly. "They're going to arrest Nymphadora."


End file.
